


The Truest Language

by icepixie



Category: due South
Genre: F/M, Humor, UST
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-03-31
Updated: 2008-03-31
Packaged: 2017-10-03 09:32:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icepixie/pseuds/icepixie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fraser. Thatcher. Lots and lots of flowers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Truest Language

Meg not-so-silently cursed Fraser's name as she started on page fifteen of the report she was filling out. Of all things he could get into trouble about with the border guards, it had to be _flowers_. She never wanted to see another geranium or morning glory as long as she lived.

Just as she was really getting creative with her muttered invective, there was a knock on her door. "Come in!" she snapped, ready to tear the head off whomever it was.

There was a slight pause before the door swung open just enough for Fraser to poke his head in. Well, that was fortunate; he was just the person she wanted to kill.

"Ma'am?" he asked tentatively.

"What is it, Fraser?" she asked, rather calmly under the circumstances.

He approached her desk cautiously. She noticed that he was holding something behind his back.

"Ray and I were preparing the rest of the flowers for shipment, and I noticed...well, I saw..." She watched in silence as he tried to find the right words. Finally, he brought his hand from behind his back and held out a bouquet of red tulips. "I thought these would suit you," he said.

After a moment in which she was surprised into stillness, Meg stood and took the flowers from his outstretched hand, wondering how on earth he could always catch her off guard like this. Did he have a secret line into her head? "Thank you," she said quietly.

"You're welcome." They looked at each other, the tulips between them, for a long moment.

The Riv's horn blared in the street below. Fraser's mouth twisted into an almost-wistful smile. "I should go help Ray return the rest of the flowers."

"Of course," Meg said, rather grateful for the release from her junior officer's searching gaze. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Goodnight, ma'am." He nodded to her, a last remnant of his smile on his lips, and left the office.

Meg listened as he walked down the hall and out of earshot down the stairs. She brought the tulips to her nose and inhaled their delicate fragrance. She smiled as the petals brushed her nose.

She could always kill him tomorrow.


End file.
